After dinner, Robb followed Jon down to the armour room instead of fetching his horse.
"Father says we may stay until supper." He reached for the small breastplate hanging beside Jon's black jack. "Are you riding?"
"Swords first."
"Good."
Jon looked round. Robb had already begun unfastening his belt.
"You can use the spare jack. Ask Tomas for a sword."
Wylla met them with the bread Jon had left at dinner, folded round cold beef. He ate it on the way to the racks, breaking off a crust for Hugin.
The rain had passed. Along the eaves, water still fell into the gutters, but the practice ground had dried enough for swords. Twenty-five household men waited beside the racks, some in their new dark plate, others wearing the mail they had used through the building of the fort. Arthur paired them while Gawen took the youngest along the rail. Jon wiped his fingers and drew on his gloves.
Tomas bowed before raising his round shield.
The sleeves that had once hung loose now strained across Tomas's shoulders. His practice sword struck Jon's shield hard enough to make his elbow ache. Jon gave ground, caught the next blow upon the sloping face, and stepped outside the captain's sword arm. His own blade reached the ribs.
Tomas drew back at Arthur's call. They began again. This time he kept his shield nearer and crowded Jon before the younger boy could turn. Jon's heel slid in a damp patch. He recovered behind his shield, but Tomas's sword was already against his shoulder.
"Again," Arthur said. "You are watching his blade, Jon."
Jon settled his feet. Beyond Tomas he could see Eddard and Rodrik at the rail, with Theon lounging between them. Robb had found a partner beside Gage and was grinning as though getting hit had improved his afternoon.
Arthur came behind Jon and touched his elbow. "You were making room for the sword before there was an opening. Let him come."
Tomas came willingly. Jon took the first blow through his forearm, waited through the second, then turned his shield against the captain's wrist and got his short stroke in. Arthur had them repeat the exchange slowly before moving down the pairs. Jon shook the ache from his wrist and waited for Tomas, smiling.
"Four years," Eddard said, watching Tomas. "He was scarcely more than skin when he first came."
"He has eaten a good deal since," Rodrik replied. "And he makes Jon work."
"He is paid to." Jon lowered his shield. Sweat had loosened the tie in his hair; the white lock clung to his temple. He pushed it back with a gloved wrist.
At Arthur's call Jon offered Tomas his hand. The captain took it, still explaining where the turn had caught him. Arthur listened with a small smile.
When the bouts ended, Gawen had the quintain ready beyond the worn track. Jon checked Bucephalus's girth while Theon chose a lance.
Gawen took the lance from Theon and set it back among the heavier shafts. He gave him a lighter one, then handed Robb its fellow.
Jon brought Bucephalus down the track at a canter. His first blow struck high; the lance kicked against his ribs as he passed clear of the swinging arm. He returned with his arm aching. At Gawen's direction he aimed lower on the next pass and struck the dark knot in the shield. Tomas and Jorren followed with heavier shafts, their armour clattering at the turn.
Theon hit the outer edge and sent the quintain spinning. Robb missed altogether, swore, remembered his father, and looked towards the rail.
Eddard's expression did not change. "Try again."
Theon had seen the bow hanging beside Jon's saddle. "Have you been keeping at it?"
"Each morning."
"Then I shall bring mine next time." Theon grinned. Jon's last arrows had grouped more closely, but Theon could still outshoot him with ease.
By the time Robb struck squarely, the foot were leaving their barracks. Gawen took Jon's lance and kept the household at mounted work, Arthur watching the older pairs pass with shields raised and blunted lances lowered. Jon washed his face and went to Hewyn.
Across the lower field the six flags had risen. The new black cloth had not yet faded. White I and II showed above spearhead badges at the front, III and IV beyond them. Upon the black cloth of the sword centuries' flags, white round-shield badges lay beneath V and VI. Even when the cloth hung still, the short crossbars held the badges open to the eye.
Theon came down from the horses with Robb. "Which one is fifth?"
Robb pointed before Jon could answer. "That one. The V."
"You have been learning his letters."
"The men know them," Robb said. "I thought I ought to."
Three hundred and sixty men stood beneath the six vexilla. Where the ground rose towards the fence, Jon could see all four spear centuries, sixty men in each, their long shields resting beside their boots. More breastplates had appeared since the proof at the Blackworks. The men waiting for theirs still wore bought mail or quilted jacks and old caps; the equipment differed, but every man carried the weapons he used upon the march. Most of Gerralt's swordsmen wore their new plate. Brus's century remained a mixture of iron and leather.
Eddard was following the breadth of the front. "You have made them deeper than they were at the armour yard."
"Four ranks today. Hewyn, bring Second beside you."
Rennick brought Second out in a narrow column, his broad, flat face turned towards the farthest files. At his command they spread upon First's right. Spear shafts rattled as the last rank settled. Rodrik leaned upon the fence.
"Good enough on clear ground. Have them turn towards the ditch."
The centuries turned separately at Jon's direction, each following its vexillum. First dressed sooner; its optio walked the rear while Second closed the last gap.
"If they turn as one great body, the outside men have too far to go," Jon said.
"A captain would do the same with his men," Rodrik observed.
"Mine must move their own sixty beside any of the other five. Norren, bring Third forward."
Third fitted beside them without disturbing the line. Rodrik glanced towards the three centuries still waiting. "And you can keep those back."
"Until I need them." Jon sent First to the target rail. Its front rank cast practice javelins and advanced with spears, Malcolm and Coll working their points between the hanging shields.
At Rodrik's objection that a spear needed room, Jon had Malcolm press a shield against one man's shaft. The man let it go and drew his short sword, still covered by his own shield.
"I will not have him dragged out of line saving a piece of ash," Jon said.
Robb asked whether every rank could throw. "If we have time before closing," Jon answered. "I will not leave the front bare for another cast." He sent First to collect its javelins and called Martyn over.
Rodrik's gaze kept returning to the empty ground before the shields. Jon had heard the same doubt in his questions: who would stand still and let them do this?
"Give him opponents," Jon told Martyn. "Fifth against First and Second. Press either one when you see your chance. Third supports them."
Martyn smiled beneath his beard. "Gerralt."
The swordsmen exchanged their weapons for wood. Practice spears came down from the rack. Eddard moved with the boys to the bank, clear of the ground the centuries would use. Jon remained beside Hewyn until the last sharp head had been carried away.
Fifth attacked First's outer end, drawing Hewyn's files round. When Second threatened its side, Martyn changed his approach and drove Gerralt between the two spear centuries before they could close.
"Hewyn, hold there," Jon called. "Rennick, turn upon him."
Second came round. Faced with spear points from both sides, Gerralt kept his men together and worked back out of the narrowing space. Nobody chased him; First's edge straightened at Malcolm's call.
The next attack came harder upon First. Shield rims knocked, men grunted and boots churned the wet earth. Jon waited until Martyn had committed Gerralt's rear files, then sent Third forward against their exposed side.
"First, retire. Behind Norren."
Hewyn drew his century back as Gerralt turned to meet the fresh spears. The men closest to Fifth gave ground last, their shields still raised. One caught his heel and stumbled; the man beside him held long enough for him to recover. First passed behind Third and formed again beneath its flag. Malcolm stood at the near end, his face red above his collar, calling the last files into place.
"I thought he had them caught," Theon said from the bank. He had stopped lounging against the fence and was following First as it formed behind the fresh spears.
Jon ended the bout before Martyn could renew it. The men lowered their practice weapons. He walked through the gap First had used, then called Hewyn and Norren to him.
"Norren came forward early enough. You waited too long to bring your last ten away," he told Hewyn. "They were nearly left there."
"I saw it, my lord. Malcolm had to fetch them."
"Let Malcolm give the word from that end."
On the next withdrawal, First's last ten moved as Third took the pressure. Jon watched from beside Eddard.
"Let us see Hewyn command them," Eddard said.
Jon called across the field. "Hewyn, take all six this time. I shall watch from here."
Hewyn gathered the centurions and gave the two sword centuries their work. As the officers returned to their flags, Robb climbed a root to see the widening front.
Rymond placed Fourth behind the threatened wing. Rodrik turned to watch Hewyn. "He has both sword centuries now. I want to see where he puts them."
The horn sounded. Across the field, the black shields moved. Jon leaned upon the rail beside his father, following Hewyn's choice of ground.
Eddard stayed through two more exercises. When they ended he went down to speak to the officers himself, asking how the younger men had borne the longer marches and which centuries still lacked armour. Theon fetched the horses while Robb remained beside Jon.
"Would you show me where you would put the household?" he asked. "Against those spears."
Jon pointed towards the rise beyond the ditch. Robb studied it, then shook his head and named another approach. They were still arguing about which ground a horse could cross when Eddard called them in for supper. Arthur was already waiting at the tower door, carrying Jon's forgotten cloak.
* * *
At the next change of moon, Heward gave each of the six pages a different centurion to serve. Timm was to leave Rennick's Second Spear Century for Norren's Third Spear Century, but after breakfast he went back to Rennick's barrack.
Heward stopped him at the door. "You are with the Third Spears this moon."
"Master Rennick said I was useful."
"You were. Now you are to help Norren."
Timm glanced past him into the barrack. "I know where Master Rennick keeps everything."
"Then show the boy taking your place." Heward waited until Timm looked at him again. "You must learn the other centuries too. When you carry an order, you need to know which man is to receive it and where to find him. Norren will show you his work as Rennick showed you his."
"Do I come back here after?"
"When you have served the others."
Timm considered that, then went inside to show his replacement where Rennick's things belonged. The campidoctor waited for him to finish before sending him across to the Third Spears' barrack.
Aries remained Jon's own page, but joined the six for their reading and figures. Whatever work the centurions found for their boys, that hour belonged to their lessons. When one arrived saying he had been told to finish oiling a belt, Cadan put him on the bench with the others and went to speak to the officer himself. The boy finished the belt after his letters.
Geth could now read a short order without stopping to sound every word aloud. Nibs still lost his place when a line ran long, so twice a sennight Jon sat with him and Aries for extra practice. He wrote short notes about errands they had already done, giving them familiar names and places to read.
Nibs copied carefully, but a neat copy did not always mean he understood it.
"Read that back to me," Jon said, turning the boy's own work towards him.
Nibs followed the line with his finger. At the end, Jon asked whom he was meant to find and what he was meant to take. When the boy had to look again, Jon let him. Neither page carried a written message away until he could read it back correctly and explain the errand.
Their weapons lessons continued as well. Gawen worked on their balance and taught them the beginnings of riding. Heward drilled their steps and turns, while Fifth and Sixth, the two sword-and-shield centuries, took turns supplying a man for the short afternoon bouts.
One afternoon Jon found Colin of Fifth Century teaching them under Gerralt's eye. Colin was showing Nibs a feint, but the boy had brought the wrong foot forward while watching the sword. When he tried to copy the movement, his feet tangled.
Gerralt tapped the earth beside his shoe. "Show him how to stand first."
Colin lowered his practice blade. He stepped beside Nibs and set his own feet where the boy could see them.
"This one forward. A little less. There."
He had Nibs step towards him and back again, slowly enough to keep his balance. Only then did he ask him to lift the sword.
Aries watched from the rail with Jon's cloak over his arm. When Jon called, he shook the dust from the hem and brought it over. Behind him, Nibs looked down at his feet.
Colin waited while he put them right, then raised his wooden blade for another try.
* * *
Two evenings later, Jon and Arthur were crossing the yard on their way to supper.
Arthur wanted another afternoon for Brus's Sixth against the household. His younger swordsmen were still following opponents out of line, though Brus had stopped them twice that day to work the turn again. Jon agreed to let Gawen spare a file.
Shouting came from the stables, followed by several hollow thumps and Patch's excited barking.
"Hold it, Geth! Hold it!"
"I am holding it!"
Something fell with a clatter. The boys burst out laughing.
Jon turned towards the open doors. "What are they doing?"
Arthur followed him beneath the eaves.
Baskets blocked most of the stable passage. The larger ones had been overturned and pushed together, with straw packed between them and a narrow gap left for a gate. Geth knelt in that opening, bracing a round shield while Timm tried to squeeze past its edge.
"Back!" Nibs shouted from behind him. "You're not through yet!"
His iron cap slipped over his eyes. He shoved it up with the heel of his hand, exposing a flushed little face beneath the broad rim. The quilted jack he had taken reached almost to his ankles; its sleeves had been rolled into thick bundles, one already coming loose over his sword hand.
Aries stood outside the baskets with Tob beside him and Patch bouncing at his heels.
"Timm, come back! We're meant to go together!"
He stepped forward to fetch him, caught his boot against the long scabbard hanging from his belt, and had to grab Tob's shoulder to keep from falling.
"You're pulling it off!" Tob protested.
The collar of his borrowed jack had slipped over one shoulder. He caught it beneath his chin while Aries freed his boot, then tried to hitch it back into place without dropping his wooden sword. The padded gloves he wore made this almost impossible; their empty fingertips folded whenever he tried to grasp the leather.
Aries let go of him and dragged the scabbard round to his other hip.
"Then stand still."
"I was standing still."
Inside the gate, Timm had become wedged between Geth's shield and a basket. His breastplate was strapped over a thick quilted coat, but even with the buckles drawn tight, the steel stood well away from his chest. Its lower edge caught against his thighs when he bent. He tried to straighten and pushed the basket backwards instead.
Nibs struck his shoulder with the flat of his wooden sword.
"You're dead."
"I'm stuck."
"You can be both."
Geth began laughing. He had to put the shield down to help Timm out, exposing Wrenn behind him in a faded leather jack whose armholes gaped around his narrow shoulders. Wrenn immediately crouched to cover the opening, stepped upon the hem of Nibs's coat and brought his little commander down onto a basket.
"Get off me!"
"I'm not on you."
"My coat!"
From behind the far tower, Hake laughed so hard that he had to hold his helm in place. Someone had packed its lining with straw. A few stalks protruded above one ear; the rest fell into his eyes whenever he shook.
Arthur leaned a hand against the doorpost. Jon glanced up at him and found the knight pressing his lips together.
Aries had managed to free his scabbard. He stood with his boots apart, the stiff shoulders of his leather jack jutting well beyond his own. The coat had once fitted one of the younger household men. Upon Aries, its skirt nearly reached his knees, and the doubled belt gathered the loose leather into great folds around his waist.
Timm backed away from the gate.
"They have four. We only have three."
"We have Patch."
The dog sprang against Aries's leg at the sound of his name. His forepaws struck the hanging leather, and his tail swept straw against Tob's shins.
"He won't do what you tell him," Tob said.
"He follows me."
"He follows everyone."
"Yield!" Aries shouted towards the baskets. "Lord Aries gives you one more chance!"
Nibs had regained his feet. He planted his wooden sword upon the wicker, with both hands upon its pommel.
"No."
"We'll knock your wall down."
"You'll have to put it back up."
Aries reached for the sword at his hip. The scabbard rose with the hilt until he clamped it between his knees and pulled harder.
Steel scraped free.
Jon straightened.
"Aries."
The boy turned, delighted at first.
"My lord! Look, we've—"
"Put that sword down."
Aries's smile faltered. He lowered the blade, but its weight carried the point farther than he intended, brushing Tob's padded sleeve before striking the floor.
"Carefully."
Arthur stepped past Jon and closed his hand over the blade near the hilt. He took it without resistance.
"All the weapons," he said. "On the bench."
The boys began obeying in an untidy clatter. Timm tried to bend for a fallen wooden sword and had to spread his knees to make room for the breastplate. Geth unstrapped his shield. Without the excitement of holding the gate, he could scarcely keep its weight upon his arm.
Nibs remained behind the baskets until Arthur beckoned him through.
Jon took the steel sword from his uncle. It was a broad, blunted practice blade, heavy enough that Aries had needed both hands merely to draw it.
"Who gave you this?"
Aries swallowed. "No one."
"Where did you find it?"
"In the practice shed."
"You know which swords you are allowed."
"It's blunt, my lord."
Jon looked from the blade to Tob, who was rubbing the place it had brushed.
"You nearly struck him while turning to speak to me. A blunt sword can still break his arm."
Aries's eyes followed his. Tob stopped rubbing.
Jon laid the weapon upon the bench, well beyond their reach. Beside it stood an empty helm with a broken chin strap, two wooden swords and the gloves Tob had finally managed to pull off.
"Did anyone give you leave to take the armour?"
No one answered.
Aries removed his cap. His red hair clung damply to his forehead, flattened beneath the worn lining. One ear was folded over; he rubbed it absently, watching Jon.
At the far entrance, a horse snorted.
Ralf stood outside with a groom and two geldings. The nearer horse stretched its neck towards the loose straw, but the groom held it back from the baskets.
"I sent the boys for bedding, my lord."
Jon looked along the stalls. Three stood empty, their floors swept but bare.
"How long ago?"
"Long enough to have those done. I told them where to spread it."
"We brought it," Aries said.
Ralf's gaze moved over the castle.
"Aye. I can see where you put it."
Aries's cheeks reddened. Behind him, Geth shifted his weight.
"I told him we had to finish first."
The red head turned sharply.
"Aries," Jon said.
The boy faced him again.
"What did you tell Geth?"
"That we could finish after."
"Did Ralf say the work could wait?"
"He was out with the horses."
"Did he?"
"No, my lord."
Jon waited until Aries looked at him. "Why did you tell the others to leave it?"
Aries held the cap against his stomach. "I'm your page." He glanced at the six boys beside the bench. "They serve the centurions. I serve you. I thought they had to do what I said."
"No."
The certainty left the boy's face.
"When I send an order, you carry it. You do not make up another in my name. Ralf has charge here."
"I only wanted to play."
"And Geth told you there was work waiting." Jon kept his voice low. "Did you tell them I would allow it?"
Aries nodded, then whispered, "Aye, my lord."
"Without asking me."
"I thought you would."
Behind him, Hake's helm knocked against his shin. The sound made Aries flinch. He stared down at the cap, his face red to the ears.
"Next time, ask. You may not give leave in my name."
"Yes, my lord."
Jon turned to the others. "If you doubt a message, ask me. Aries can be questioned like anyone else."
Geth nodded first. The younger boys followed.
"Take off the armour and leave it upon the bench. Finish the stalls Ralf gave you. When he is satisfied, you may wash and go to supper."
Timm glanced at the equipment already piled there.
"Do we put these back first?"
"No. Aries will see to them."
Aries raised his head.
"You will stay after the others have gone," Jon told him. "Ralf will show you the empty end stall. Clean it, then sweep this passage. Everything taken from the shed is to be cleaned and returned. Ser Gawen will count it."
The boy looked along the passage towards the feed room.
"All of it?"
"All of it. There will be no games for you tonight."
Aries glanced at Geth, then Nibs. Neither looked back.
"Only me?"
"Only you."
His mouth tightened. For a moment Jon thought he would argue. Instead he lowered the cap onto the bench, so carefully that it made no sound.
Arthur began helping the boys out of their borrowed armour. Timm could not reach the breastplate's side buckles beneath the folds of his coat. When the knight freed the last strap, the boy let out a long breath and rubbed both thighs.
Nibs had pulled his jack halfway over his head and become trapped inside it.
"Stop pulling," Arthur told him.
"I can't see."
"I know. Lower your arms."
Geth held the hem while Arthur worked the heavy quilting free. Nibs emerged red-faced, his hair standing up, and immediately looked towards Jon as though being caught in his coat might count as another offence.
Jon pointed him towards Ralf.
"The bedding."
The boy hurried away.
Aries was still struggling with his belt. He had knotted the spare length behind the buckle, and each tug made it tighter. The empty scabbard knocked against the bench. He caught it, tried again and bit his lip.
Arthur held out his hand.
"I can do it."
"Let me see the knot."
Aries hesitated before turning. Arthur loosened the leather and drew it free. Without the belt, the old jack hung open over the boy's fitted black coat. Its collar had rubbed a red patch beneath his chin.
Jon waited until it was off.
"Tell Ralf why his work was left."
Aries faced Ralf.
"I called them away." He swallowed. "I told them they could leave it because I was Lord Jon's page."
Ralf listened, one hand resting upon the nearest stall door.
"And whose idea was taking the gear?"
"Mine."
"Then begin with those baskets. I need room to bring the horses through."
Aries bent to the largest. Patch came nosing beneath his arm, tail moving hopefully.
"Not now," he whispered.
He dragged the basket aside with the dog following at his heel.
Jon remained until the passage was open and the six other pages were carrying bedding into the stalls. Then he went out with Arthur. Aries kept his back towards them as their footsteps crossed the threshold.
* * *
By dusk, the horses were feeding quietly behind their half-doors. The last light lay in narrow strips beneath the high windows, catching dust whenever Aries shook his cloth.
He sat on a low stool beside the stable bench, with Geth's shield propped between his knees. Ralf had inspected the passage and the empty stall, but found straw lodged behind the shield's grip. Aries had spent several minutes trying to work it free with the corner of a rag.
Most of the gear had already gone back to the shed. One cap stood beside his rinse bucket, its lining turned out to dry. An old apron covered his coat; Ralf had knotted its neck loop short enough for him, but the hem still lay across his shoes.
Patch slept beneath the bench.
Wylla came in carrying a bowl beneath a folded cloth.
"Aries."
He pulled the rag through the grip again.
"I've nearly finished."
She set the supper down. Dust filled his red hair and streaked one cheek; beneath his chin, the borrowed collar had rubbed the skin raw. Wylla tipped his face towards the last light.
"It doesn't hurt."
"I have not asked what hurts."
His eyes were swollen. He blinked hard, and she drew him against her waist before he could bend over the shield again. The rag remained stretched between his hands.
"I've never seen him look at me like that." His voice caught against her gown.
Wylla stroked the tangled hair. "You frightened him with that sword."
"I wasn't going to hit anyone hard."
"I know." She held him while his fingers loosened on the rag.
Aries said nothing. She felt him swallow against her.
She let him lean against her a little longer, then crouched beside the stool.
"Show me what is left."
He pointed behind the shield's grip. She held it steady while he worked the rag through from the other side. A last twist brought the straw free.
Ralf came to inspect it. He ran a finger beneath the strap, looked at the cap beside the bucket and nodded.
"Take those back. Ser Gawen is still in the shed. You are finished here."
Aries rose with the shield held against his chest. Wylla took the cap as far as the doorway, then settled its strap over his wrist so he could manage both.
When he returned, she had uncovered his broth and broken the bread. He sat beside her on the bench without being told.
"Hands," she said.
He showed her.
She wiped the dirt from his knuckles with a damp cloth, then gave him the spoon. He took two mouthfuls while she untied the apron and drew it over his head.
"I thought he would like it," he murmured at last.
"The castle?"
He nodded. "We made the gate narrow. So they couldn't all come through together."
"It was a good gate. A very poor stable."
That almost drew a smile. He took another spoonful, then let the spoon rest against the bowl.
"Will he still want me with him tomorrow?"
Wylla put her hand over his. "Is that what you have been worrying about?"
His mouth trembled. She moved closer on the bench and let him lean against her.
"He has spent too many evenings teaching you to send you away over one foolish afternoon. You have done the work he set you. Ralf is satisfied."
"Lord Jon hasn't seen it."
"Then you can tell him." She smoothed the collar clear of his sore chin. "Eat while it is warm, love."
"Aries. Come here."
Jon stood inside the doorway.
The boy rose abruptly. His spoon struck the bowl, and Wylla steadied it while he wiped his palms against his coat. He crossed the passage with his head down.
Two paces from Jon, he stopped.
His hands folded together, separated, then folded again. He began rubbing one thumbnail over the other.
"Have you finished?" Jon asked.
"Yes, my lord. Ralf inspected the stall and the passage. Ser Gawen counted everything."
"Good."
Aries went on rubbing one thumbnail over the other. He had faced a yard full of strangers to bring his friends here, yet now he scarcely dared look up. Jon put a hand upon his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," the boy whispered.
"I know. Leave your fingers alone."
Aries let them fall. A tear ran down the cheek Wylla had cleaned; he tried to turn his face away, but Jon crouched so the boy could see him.
"Geth tried to help you today."
"I'll let him speak."
"Even when you think you know better."
Aries nodded, miserable.
"Do you remember the night they came? You put your new coat over Nibs and slept beside him."
"He was cold."
"You saw that without being told. That is the boy I want beside me." Jon brushed the damp hair clear of his forehead. "You can look after them, Aries. Start by listening when one of them tells you something is wrong."
"I will, my lord."
Jon stood, keeping his hand on the boy's shoulder until Aries looked up with him.
"I shall want you with my letters tomorrow. Bring your own work too."
The boy drew an uneven breath. "As before?"
"As before." Jon squeezed his shoulder. "Finish your supper."
Jon released him. He exchanged a glance with Wylla and walked out into the yard.
Aries stood where he had left him until the footsteps faded.
Then Wylla came to him.
She gathered him against her before he could try to hide his face again, one arm around his shoulders and her other hand cupping the back of his head. His fingers caught in her gown. She bent to kiss his hair, holding him close while he pressed his wet cheek into the familiar wool.